


Allium

by amm_amethyst



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Flowers, Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amm_amethyst/pseuds/amm_amethyst
Summary: "I still can't believe he's gone...Ranboo stood in front of the dark, dirt house. Red and white tulips were piled in his arms, as he hugged them tightly, trying to find comfort in something. Trying not to cry, he stepped forward and lay the bouquet of flowers down at the door, not daring to go in. It was too soon, Tommy may be...gone, but it still felt like an invasion of privacy. "---------Based on Ranboo's last lore stream, where he plants flowers by Tommy's house
Relationships: Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	Allium

**Author's Note:**

> This is all rp, all of this is based on their rp characters!
> 
> This is probably one of the shortest things I have ever written lol

_ I still can't believe he's gone... _

Ranboo stood in front of the dark, dirt house. Red and white tulips were piled in his arms, as he hugged them tightly, trying to find comfort in something. Trying not to cry, he stepped forward and lay the bouquet of flowers down at the door, not daring to go in. It was too soon, Tommy may be...gone, but it still felt like an invasion of privacy. 

He couldn't cry, he couldn't. It would hurt more to cry and end up with more burn scars on his face than to simply bottle it up. It wasn't healthy, he knew that, but what else could he do? He could deal with emotional pain better than physical. And anyway, Tubbo didn't cry, and this was worse on Tubbo than it was on him.

Red and white. Tommy’s colours. Red—courage, passion and assertion  _ (and blood. Tommy’s blood. Dreams hands and the prison floor stained with the blood of a child soldier).  _ White—innocence, freshness and new leaves  _ (and isolation. Tommy, completely isolated in exile. Tommy peering over the ledge of a bubbling lava pool with no one there to witness).  _

Turning to leave, Ranboo turned his back on the house, hoping to leave the ghosts of Tommy's haunting house behind; he spotted something. A flower. Not just any flower, but an allium. A singular, fully blossomed allium, with a short green stem of a dead flower next to it. Ranboo crouched down and gently picked the flower, and memories came flooding in. 

  
  


( _ “Did you just hit me?!” Tommy screeched. _

_ Ranboo frantically shook his head. “Accidentally! I—I was trying to give you this,” Ranboo tossed a flower in his direction. An allium.  _

_ Tommy reached his hand forward and the purple flower softly landed in the palm of Tommy's hand.  _

_ Tommy looked up, confused. “You like flowers, Ranboo?” _

_ “Yeah, I do,” defensive, Ranboo shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, looking down.  _

_ Ranboo didn't see Tommy desperately fighting a smile, and tucking the flower safely in his back pocket.)  _

The petals swayed in the wind. It looked quite beautiful, Ranboo thought, it probably would have been nicer if it wasn’t another memory of his dead friend. 

Ranboo reached forward and picked the flower from the dirt. He held it carefully in his hands, not wanting to ruin the purple petals. Purple—dignity, devotion, creativity and ambition. 

Purple was always the kindest colour. 

Ranboo turned back to the house; Tommy would have hated these flowers, he would have declared he was ‘too masculine’ for them. Ranboo and Tubbo would shower him in the delicate plants anyway. They couldn’t do that anymore. 

_ My last gift for you, Tommy.  _

Ranboo tossed the flower towards the scratched, wooden door; in the same manner he did all those months ago. He clasped his hands in front of him, looked down and shut his eyes.  _ You can’t cry, not now.  _ He couldn’t stop himself; burning hot tears slowly slid down his face, leaving small scars as they ran. He winced in pain, but didn’t dare wipe them; he couldn’t risk burning his hands as well. 

Ranboo was never too religious, he never went to Church Prime regularly, but now he found himself praying to whatever deity dealt with the dead to make sure Tommy rested peacefully. To make sure he was happy up there (Tommy always said he would go to hell, but Ranboo thought differently). 

Whispering a last prayer, Ranboo glanced down at the allium by the door, then turned, walking home to the cold, snowy biome he called home. 

_ Farewell Tommy, I'm sorry we failed you. You will forever be missed. _

Ranboo never saw the dainty flower disappear. 

He also never saw the ghost of a young boy holding a purple flower in his hands; a sad smile resting on his face and gratefulness in his eyes. 


End file.
